


No Phones At The Table

by My_floaty_coaty_boy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: #, Bad Parenting, Cheesy, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Like, really cheesy guys you dont even understand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 12:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14593458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_floaty_coaty_boy/pseuds/My_floaty_coaty_boy
Summary: Everyone knew the No Phones At The Table rule. So why is Casitel breaking it?





	No Phones At The Table

**Author's Note:**

> hey! This is just a little drabble that's been bouncing around my head for a bit, basically a warm up. I'm working on something big, but it's slow progress, so i might just do little one-shots 'til then. cool.

Everyone knew the ‘No-phones-at-dinner’ rule. It had been a revered, respected rule within the Winchester household for as long as Dean could remember: His parents had enforced it with each other before Dean had even been old enough for a phone. It was introduced to every one of the Winchester’s guests, from Sam’s new ‘friend’ Jess to Dean’s study partner for the Literacy essay, Charlie. Dean’s oldest friend (and long-time crush, but you’re not supposed to know about that,) had been made aware of the rule the first time Dean brought him home, tears streaming down his cheeks and a stinging graze on his hands from where Dean had hit him with his bike trying to do a wheelie when they were seven. Now, ten years later, the rule still stood.

So why was Castiel calling him when he knew Dean wouldn’t answer?

Dean stared at his phone as it buzzed on the table, face down but light from the illuminated screen bouncing off Dean’s fork and onto his potatoes.

 _‘Cas_   _is calling’._  

Dean’s brow furrowed, and he looked up at his parents, who shook their heads.

“You know the rule, Dean.” John reminded him, eager to continue with their previous conversation, “if it’s important, he’ll call back.”

“But Dad, he knows the rule too. He wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important!” Dean pleaded, turning his eyes to his mother in a last-ditch attempt at leniency. His hoped were quashed when she spoke.

“Maybe he’ll leave a message, and then you can call him back.”

As if on cue, the buzzing stopped, and Castiel’s voice filled the silence their food had brought with it.

Dean never tired of hearing Castiel’s voice. It had broken a few years ago, as had his own, and after the initial awkward squeakings, Cas’ voice had settled into a deep, gravelly hum that Dean could feel in his bones. But despite his love of Castiel’s voice, he would have given anything for it to say anything else.

“ _Hello, Dean. I-uh, I’m sorry for calling during your dinner, I know the rule, but this is…well, matters are rather pressing.”_ Kid always spoke like he’d swallowed a guide to Queen’s English. Most of the time it made Dean grin, but now, muddied with the lack of emotion in Castiel’s voice, it unnerved him. “ _I…well, uhm…I came out to them, Dean. And I know you probably won’t hear this until later, but i-it didn’t g-go so well, a-and…well, I am…homeless, apparently. Now.”_ Castiel’s emotions were always difficult to read to those that didn’t know him as well. Upon hearing this message, most would say that Castiel sounded emotionless, apart from the occasional stutters, that could have been put down to it being cold outside; it was nearly Christmas, after all. But Dean knew Castiel better than anyone.

When Castiel had pulled Dean aside one day two years ago and told him that he was gay, at first, Dean hadn’t known how to react. But when Castiel had stumbled over one word, imploring Dean to say something, _a-anything_ , Dean had known that the only thing he could do was pull his best friend into a hug and tell him that it didn’t matter, that Castiel was the same, that Dean was happy that he was happy.

Why it had taken so long for Castiel to come out to his family was no mystery: They were deeply against anything that didn’t fit into the conservative, cookie-cutter mould they had set for themselves. Castiel had told him that it wasn’t safe for him to come out, that he’d wait until college.

So why _had_ Cas told them?

 _“I’m sorry for calling, Dean, really, I don’t want to bother you, but…well, I don’t—I don’t know anyone else. And…well, it’s cold. And raining, and I don’t…Dean, I don’t know what to do, I didn’t mean to tell them; they were just talking, God, I don’t even remember what about, but…Michael said something, something a-about Hell, and suffering, and I just…I couldn’t take it. I just said it, a-and…Now I’m here. And I don’t know what to do. Uhm…My phone’s almost out of battery, s-so I suppose I have to go, but…uh, if you get this, can you please…can you please pick me up? I’m at the bus stop, but I have no money, I left my stuff inside, Dean, I-”_ Castiel’s voice cut off with a choked sob, and if that wasn’t the worst sound Dean had ever heard, he didn’t know what was, “ _I don’t now what to do, Dean. I’m so scared…I—”_ he cut himself off with a defeated sigh, and something about that broke Dean out of his trance and he swiped up his phone and stood, rushing to the door to scoop up the keys to the Impala and tug his shoes on. He didn’t even hear the end of the message, he was already out the door and slamming the car door to keep himself from the rain.

The car purred to life around him, and the tyres struggled to find friction on the wet driveway, but then he was off, hitting the speed limit just about as fast as the old car could.

It took half an hour to drive to the bus stop a few streets away from Castiel’s home. The Impala’s bright white headlights illuminated a hunched-over figure in a tell-tale tan trench coat, and Castiel looked up, no doubt recognising the sound of the Impala’s engine from the countless times he’d heard it before. His black-ish hair was sopping from the sheets of rain, and even from the car Dean could see him shivering.

He looked like a drowned weasel.

And he was still the best sight Dean had seen in his whole life.

Dean was out the car before Castiel could move, flinging his arms around the other boy. Neither of them spoke for a moment, the two of them just standing there, in the rain, Deans’ arms around Castiel’s shaking shoulders, Cas’ hands resting on Dean’s back.

“It’s OK, buddy. You’re gonna be OK. You can stay with us, mom can get your stuff tomorrow, y’know how scary she can be. It’s all gonna be OK.”

“Thank you, Dean. I don’t want to inconvenience you.” Castiel pulled away slightly, then rest his forehead against Dean’s, his speech barely audible above the crashing of the rain around them. “I’m sorry I had to break the rule.”

“I’m sure they’ll forgive us, just this once. C’mon, I don’t wanna catch pneumonia or somethin’.” Dean tugged Castiel into the car, switching on the heaters and aiming the grids at him. The Lego brick they’d shoved in there years ago began to rattle and he caught Castiel smiling sadly at the sound. He met Dean’s eyes and shuffled along the bench seat.

“So, why’d you do it? I thought you weren’t gonna.”

“…I don’t know. I just…They said Gabriel ran away last year because he was gay, which isn’t true, he ran away because they’re all assbutts, but they kept talking, and I kept getting angrier and angrier and I just…said it. I thought if it were me, they might understand…that I could make them understand, because they were my family, a-and…I thought…” He trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish the thought.

“I’m sorry, Cas. That sucks. Their loss, though--Who _wouldn’t_ want you?!”

Castiel chuckled sadly and leant forward, brushing his lips against Dean’s cheek lightly before pulling back far too soon. “Thank you, Dean.”

               Dean smiled at him softly. “Let’s go home, Cas.”

And when Dean officially came out to his family a few days later, Castiel’s fingers threaded in his own, Castiel realised he’d always had a family in the Winchesters.

**Author's Note:**

> comment please it makes me write more.


End file.
